Saturday, April 10, 2004
Beneath...
He looks his patient squarely in the eye, this manipulative alcoholic hell-bent on wringing a prescription for diazepam out of him. Pain, at first in the "broken wrist" (When did you do it. 6 MONTHS AGO?!?! WHY ARE YOU STILL WEARING THAT SPLINT), then in the knees, then the shoulders, then the wrists. His wry comment that look, I'm not stupid, I've been doing this job for a year now. I've seen people like you before; I know what you want. I'm not going to give it to you.
Wheedle, wheedle, wheedle.
Finally, curiosity erodes through his professionalism (or lack thereof?) and he asks :
Really. Honestly. Do you truly believe that you have a medical emergency as severe as the other people in that waiting room you shared just now.
She does. She honestly does; she starts saying how she is worse off than them. She, this armchair psychiatrist with the blatently normal MSE and the normal thought content trying to wheedle a sedative out of him because she's read psychiatry textbooks (Well, I've taken exams in it, and passed them! And you do not have an altered mental state!!!)
He pauses.
"Unbelievable" he says, "Simply unbelievable".
Stands and walks out the door.
... contempt
*****
Comparing, and contrasting.
Both Him.
One, obtuse, non-specific. Crafted.
The other, bare. Bared. Raw.
Both Him.
Did I change, between then and now? But that last then is so recent.
Or did I just change the way I write?
Was I trying face down my demon(s)? Stripping away the Words of protection. Because the bare-boned, tersely simple, un-crafted version with it's pressure of speech moves him far more, on the re-reading than the artistically flowery, considered creation. It does.
There is power, in Words.
They change the way you see the World.
*****
Sometimes, I miss the days when I thought in black and white. Decisions were obvious. Compassion and self-sacrifice prevailed. True Love endured, through thick, thin, rain, shine and distance. Faith was rewarded. Parents were immortal.
We, were not objects to be questioned, and re-examined, by ourselves.
I still step outside the circle occasionally. When called to consider someone else's path, someone else's life. My cynical little biases and over-skeptical preconceptions? (or, perhaps, my silently accumulated observations?) And, in an age past, I advised, in that capacity. Black and white. Right and wrong. Predictable outcomes. 99% sensitive, 99% specific.
The only circle I can never seem to step out of is my own.
He looks his patient squarely in the eye, this manipulative alcoholic hell-bent on wringing a prescription for diazepam out of him. Pain, at first in the "broken wrist" (When did you do it. 6 MONTHS AGO?!?! WHY ARE YOU STILL WEARING THAT SPLINT), then in the knees, then the shoulders, then the wrists. His wry comment that look, I'm not stupid, I've been doing this job for a year now. I've seen people like you before; I know what you want. I'm not going to give it to you.
Wheedle, wheedle, wheedle.
Finally, curiosity erodes through his professionalism (or lack thereof?) and he asks :
Really. Honestly. Do you truly believe that you have a medical emergency as severe as the other people in that waiting room you shared just now.
She does. She honestly does; she starts saying how she is worse off than them. She, this armchair psychiatrist with the blatently normal MSE and the normal thought content trying to wheedle a sedative out of him because she's read psychiatry textbooks (Well, I've taken exams in it, and passed them! And you do not have an altered mental state!!!)
He pauses.
"Unbelievable" he says, "Simply unbelievable".
Stands and walks out the door.
... contempt
*****
Comparing, and contrasting.
Both Him.
One, obtuse, non-specific. Crafted.
The other, bare. Bared. Raw.
Both Him.
Did I change, between then and now? But that last then is so recent.
Or did I just change the way I write?
Was I trying face down my demon(s)? Stripping away the Words of protection. Because the bare-boned, tersely simple, un-crafted version with it's pressure of speech moves him far more, on the re-reading than the artistically flowery, considered creation. It does.
There is power, in Words.
They change the way you see the World.
*****
Sometimes, I miss the days when I thought in black and white. Decisions were obvious. Compassion and self-sacrifice prevailed. True Love endured, through thick, thin, rain, shine and distance. Faith was rewarded. Parents were immortal.
We, were not objects to be questioned, and re-examined, by ourselves.
I still step outside the circle occasionally. When called to consider someone else's path, someone else's life. My cynical little biases and over-skeptical preconceptions? (or, perhaps, my silently accumulated observations?) And, in an age past, I advised, in that capacity. Black and white. Right and wrong. Predictable outcomes. 99% sensitive, 99% specific.
The only circle I can never seem to step out of is my own.
